Текст книги "Crave"

Автор книги: B.J. Harvey

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Amazingly, Carmen’s column on Wednesday barely mentioned us. The only comment she made was about having run into me and a “sassy, gorgeous, albeit opinionated, brunette” at the Tea Garden on Sunday. Nothing more, nothing less. Nothing berating, catty or closely resembling the passive-aggressive, sanctimonious diatribe I’ve come to expect from Ms. Dallas.

It seems Lucia was somewhat unexpected, but that Carmen admired her reaction and conversation during our date. Either that or she hopefully decided it wasn’t worth her while to publish any personal details.

I’m hoping for the latter. I don’t need to have a reporter hell-bent on an exposé.

It’s Friday night, two weeks after Lucia and I became something.

I’ve seen her twice during the past week, once for a quiet dinner at her place, which turned into more than dinner, something that neither of us were surprised by or disappointed with. I am still holding back years of restraint so engrained in me that although I know it’s apparent to her, I cannot take that final step.

It’s not that I don’t trust her. She more than proved that our developing relationship means more to her than I have any right to expect when she identified herself to the press. Knowing her like I do and the way that she does not yield to anyone, exposing that final part of me still seems to be too much, too soon.

Despite my growing feelings for her, I never want my life to encroach on hers to such an extent that she could no longer live her life the way she wants to—with no regrets.

Walking out of my office and toward the elevators, I stop when my phone vibrates in my hand. Expecting the screen to say Lucia’s name, I’m surprised when I see it flashing Richard James, the museum board’s chairman.

For the last few weeks, Grant and I have been waiting for an outcome from the museum board’s investigation. Operating in professional limbo has been no easy feat. Thankfully, a full portfolio of other projects has kept my hands—if not my mind—occupied. The nights when Lucia has been working at the restaurant, I’ve brought work home, keeping my nose to the grindstone until she either calls or visits and successfully distracts me in other ways. “Mr. James, this is a pleasant surprise.”

“Mr. Alexander. I apologize for calling you after business hours, but with an investigation such as this, we had to cover all bases.”

“I understand. Grant and I appreciate your thoroughness. There’s a lot at stake with such a high-profile project.”

“Indeed there is. I won’t inconvenience you further, but after investigating the facts and the allegations made about your designs, the board and I are more confident than we were before that Alexander Richardson’s concept is robust and unique in its approach. This building will prove to be one of the most pivotal and iconic installations in the city for years to come.”

“Thank you, Mr. James. I’m very happy that we’ve been cleared, and relatively inconspicuously,” I add.

“I never had a doubt, Mr. Alexander. It was important to maintain transparency and ensure that this and any allegation made, albeit unfounded, was investigated fully. Please believe me that we were never in doubt and always remained confident in the future success of the project.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Mr. James.”

“Callum, I hope we can move past formalities now. Please call me Richard.”

“Yes, thank you, Richard. We also appreciate that this investigation was not played out in the press.”

“Conducting such a preliminary investigation in the public eye would not have been beneficial to either party,” he states resolutely.

“Does this mean the groundbreaking ceremony next week will be going ahead?”

“Absolutely. I’ll see you then. I’ll have the board secretary contact yours with all the details.”

“Very much appreciated. May I ask one more question?”

“Of course, Callum. Go ahead.”

“Will you ever disclose to us where the original complaint came from?”

The line goes quiet, Richard’s hesitation giving me the answer well before his voice does. I take the time to press the elevator call button.

“Given the profile on the project, we felt it warranted investigation.”

“That’s fine, Richard. I guess we’ll never know.” I sigh quietly, still curious as to what anyone would have to gain by trying to derail the development at such a late stage.

“Unfortunately not. I won’t hold you up any longer,” he says.

“Thank you for calling to let me know.”

“You too, Callum. Pass on my regards to Grant also.”

“I’ll do that. See you next week at the ceremony.” The elevator doors open and I step inside, thankful for the strong cell coverage in our building.

“Yes. There will be a lot of press coverage, but given your profile, that won’t be anything new to you now, will it?” he says with a chuckle.

“Indeed. Good night.” I end the call and lean my forehead against the cool metal wall of the elevator, breathing out a huge sigh of relief at the fact that at least that aspect of my life has now been taken care of.

Unfortunately, the press coverage Richard alluded to will not take the pressure off that particular area. Right now the pros of good press coverage for both the project and the firm versus the cons of unwanted questions and attention on my personal life are pretty much on a level playing field.

I look at my watch, wondering what Lucia would think of me heading to the restaurant to see her. She’d be just as relieved by the good news about the case as I am. She’s even talked about holding a dinner at the restaurant after the groundbreaking. But seeing how late it is, it’s smarter to wait until she comes over tonight.

Once I’m in my car and heading home, I use Bluetooth to call Grant.

“Cal, my brother from another mother, who wishes he was my lover,” he says when he picks up the phone.

“You’re in the wrong profession. You should’ve been a comedian.”

“I’ve been telling you that for years, my son. Now for what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I thought you’d want to start your weekend off on a good note instead of staying at home, crying into your twenty-five-year-old scotch and watching chick flicks.”

“Does lesbian porn count as a chick flick? ’Cause if so, I’m up for that.” He laughs down the phone, and I can’t help but smile. Grant’s mood has always been contagious.

“I bet you are,” I reply dryly. “I thought you’d like to know that Richard James called me.”

“And . . . ?”

“And . . . we’ve been cleared of any and all allegations made in the complaint. The groundbreaking is going ahead next week as planned, and everything is full steam ahead.”

“Oh, thank fuck for that. That was one headache we did not need,” he says, letting out a huge breath down the phone.

“I can’t argue with that. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Sounds good, and Cal?”

“Yes . . . ?” I reply slowly, anticipating an arrogant retort from my best friend. Years of experience have given me the heads up on what is potentially coming my way.

“You seeing the lovely Lucia tonight?”

“Am I still breathing?”

“Indeed. When do you meet the family?” he asks, his voice full of curiosity.

“Next week,” I reply unwittingly. “Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, waiting for Grant to pounce on my admission.

“Shit, Cal. You’ve had your share of women, but not once have you met the family. This isn’t just a first; this is un-fucking-precedented. I almost wish I was coming along for the ride.”

“If you’re not otherwise engaged with your adult entertainment, you and your arm candy will be joining us at the celebration dinner after the ceremony, after our customary appearance at the official reception, of course.”

“Of course. The mayor will look down on us skipping his prime vote-gathering opportunity with the city’s sacred son.”

“Richardson, quit the bullshit,” I warn half-heartedly.

“But it’s so much fun, Alexander,”

“So other than watching porn, got any plans tonight?” I ask, as I contemplate turning my car around and heading to Grant’s inner-city condo. The perfect divorcé bachelor pad.

“Not right now. My lady friend is turning up in about an hour, and she can entertain me as much as she likes.”

“On that note . . .” I say.

“You love it. Goodbye, Cal. I expect a full report on her many talents tomorrow.”

“What are we, girlfriends now?” I ask him jokingly.

He lets out a loud laugh. “Whatever helps you sleep at night. Say hello to the miracle worker for me.”

I can’t help smiling. “Will do. Bye, Richardson.”

“Have a good night, Alexander,” he replies in a singsong voice.

Heading toward my house in the hills, the sanctuary that provides me with calm in a swirling storm, I breathe a sigh of relief. Finally, my professional life is looking up again.

Standing alongside Grant and the chairman of the board on the front of the stage, we shake hands with perfect fake smiles plastered on our faces while a swath of camera flashes attempt to blind us. It’s all in the name of getting that perfect shot, the one that will hopefully appear on the cover of the Tribune tomorrow.

The crowd is an eclectic mix of invited professionals and a small scattering of press who clamber over each other, calling out my name as they try a perfect shot. Undoubtedly that would be worth more to them than the perfected poses we’re providing for them instead.

Somehow this time I’m not itching in my skin from the attention. I know the reason why, and she’s sitting to the far right of the front row, in my peripheral vision. We arrived together; we will leave together. One could almost call this our official ‘coming out’ as a couple.

A monogamous couple.

I’m definitely looking forward to showing Lucia off. I’m proud to have her by my side, and I want to be photographed with her. I want Carmen Dallas to be out-scooped for once. But when I scan the crowd, my eyes lock with the woman in question, who then makes a point of looking at Lucia then back at me with a perfectly poised raised brow.

Richard, Grant and I take our seats on the podium, and the press position themselves toward the front of the stage to ask the usual mix of expected and the typically unsurprising questions. A pin-prickling sensation slowly creeps up my spine. There may be a group of us on stage, but despite having Grant sitting proudly alongside me, as the chairman directs the first reporter to ask their question, the bravado I normally feel in these situations slips.

That’s when I see Carmen stand up. “Mr. Alexander . . .”

“I thought we’d be beyond formalities by now, Ms. Dallas, given your thorough reporting of my personal life thus far.” There are a few sniggers in the crowd and the normally dignified reporter looks slightly off kilter for a brief moment before quickly regaining her composure. “Mr. Alexander, can you comment on the recent allegations made in regards to your firm’s design for this building? It’s my understanding that there were suggestions of plagiarism?” And with those two sentences, the wind is quickly and efficiently blown out of my sails.

My mind is incapable of coming up with anything resembling a professional response. Grant leans forward and answers her question. “A good journalist looking for a scoop should also investigate all the facts. If you had done your homework, Ms. Dallas, you’d know that an independent investigation was carried out and Alexander Richardson have been unequivocally cleared of any impropriety.”

My chest tightens and the muscles lining my back tense at the ramifications of not only Carmen’s question, but also what my hesitation in answering her might also say. That alone may have done more damage than if we’d been open and honest from the start about the anonymous complaint against us. I glance over at Lucia. The look of utter distaste and veiled fury she’s struggling to hide astounds me. Staring at the reporter, her jaw is as tight as her fists clench in her lap. She’s angry for me, annoyed for me. She’s feeling everything I would acknowledge physically if I weren’t on display, having knowingly and willingly been rolled out as the main draw card for this event.

“Despite being cleared, don’t you think this brings into question your integrity and your ability to design an important landmark such as this? Perhaps your extracurricular activities have clouded your judgment and left you distracted?” The high inflection of her voice as she hints at my relationship causes my unaffected decorum to snap.

I flip back into business mode, my back going ramrod straight as I prepare for battle. If Ms. Dallas wants to showboat in the public eye, she’s about to get one hell of a performance.

“Ms. Dallas, you may be the press and a media representative, but what that doesn’t do is give you the right to slander my name and that of our company. We have designed many pivotal and original buildings both in this city and around the country, and not once have we sacrificed our integrity or design principles to secure a contract.”

“But—”

“I wasn’t finished, Ms. Dallas. We were awarded this project after a vigorous and extremely stringent tender process, during which the museum board left no stone unturned to ensure that the best design and concept won. We are very proud of the fact that we were selected for this project and we will oversee it until the last nail is hammered and the last tile is put in place. If you wish to talk specifics about the project or about the investigation that resulted from unfounded and anonymous claims made against us, you’re welcome to contact either the board’s press secretary or Alexander Richardson’s assistant to arrange an interview. Now, if there aren’t any further questions, I’m guessing we should start celebrating the groundbreaking and the building of San Francisco’s new waterfront maritime museum.” I end with a smile, my bravado-fuelled mask firmly in its place. I stand up and feel Grant slap my back a few times in support and congratulations.

“Wondered when the cut-throat Callum would show up. I can hold my own, but even I would struggle in a verbal sparring match with that succubus. Fucking glad you came to the party,” he mutters under his breath as we smile for the cameras one more time. Thankfully, the board secretary steps forward and directs the attendees toward the marquee tent set up on site for a reception being hosted by the mayor.

I look toward Lucia, who’s beaming at me, her smile wide and utterly breathtaking. Her eyes are filled with pride as she makes her way toward us. Unable to resist, I turn my head and take one last furtive glance at Carmen only to find her staring daggers at me, her scowl morphing into a scheming smirk when she catches Lucia closing in. Nodding dismissively at the two of us, she spins on her heels and walks away. After the verbal slaying she just encountered, any normal person would be scuttling off with their tail between their legs.

Making my way offstage, I only have a second to brace myself before Lucia launches herself into my arms, her lips seeking out mine as she slams her mouth against my mouth and kisses me. Buoyed by what just happened and not giving a shit who’s watching, I wrap my arms around her waist and return the kiss with enthusiasm. I pour everything I’m feeling into the contact: pride, exhilaration, the buzz of adrenaline from my verbal smackdown with the overzealous reporter, all of it.

Grant clears his throat, snapping me out of my haze, but not in time to stop the serendipitous throng of camera flashes and catcalls as the lingering photographers see their chance and run with it, snapping as many shots as they can while the going is good.

Lucia’s eyes grow wide as she realizes what she’s subconsciously forgotten about. “I’m so sorry, Cal. I didn’t—”

Not wanting to hear her apologize again because in my mind, she has absolutely nothing to be sorry about, I crush her body to mine and slam my mouth against hers. Taking my time, I delve my tongue into her mouth, rolling against hers in a well-practiced dance that has never been as good as it is when I’m with her. I hear a hum of noise all around us, but it’s nothing compared to the roaring in my ears and the thumping of my heart in my chest as my feelings for the woman in my arms make themselves known to me in blinding clarity.

I want her in my arms. I want the world to know she’s with me, that she’s mine.

But right now, what I really want to do is take her somewhere private, strip her bare and bury my cock deep inside of her. I want to get so lost in her that I can never find my way back again.

The minute I get Lucia through my front door, I give up holding back the swirling emotions coursing through me. Sensing my mood, she reciprocates immediately. I tug on her hand, pulling her body hard into mine. I wrap one hand around her waist, the other around her ponytail. The only response available to her is to wrap her arms around my shoulders and hold on.

My mouth slams against hers, the answering gasp giving my tongue its desperately wanted opportunity to delve inside and take what it wants. I move her backwards, only stopping when her back hits the wall. The force shakes the apartment, sending a hanging mirror careening to the floor and shards of glass shattering around our feet.

Lucia moans loudly, which just drives me higher. I push my thigh between her legs, hard against her core, the hand at her back moving down to her ass and pushing her pelvis hard against me. Hips rocking out of their own volition, I drag my mouth along her jaw, nipping and kissing, then running my tongue down her neck and sucking hard against the soft, supple skin.

“Fuck me, Callum. Fuck me right here.”

“I need to feel you around my cock.”

“Do it,” she says on a moan as I press my pelvis hard against her. Moving my leg aside, I reach the hand at her ass down under her dress then up to her underwear, fisting them and tearing them off her. I drop the offending scrap of silk to the floor, running two fingers over her clit and continuing down until they’re pressing inside of her.

“God, that feels good. Been aching for this all day.”

I nip her earlobe before sucking it into my mouth. “Been wanting me deep inside?” I ask, my voice rough with lust.

“Need you, Cal.” She moans. Her hands grip my biceps, her fingernails biting into my skin through my shirt. The flash of pain is a welcome distraction from the roaring in my ears calling for me to take her there, taking her hard and fast right against the wall.

Running her hands down my torso, she scrambles to tug my shirt out of my suit pants, then pulls my belt loose, flicking the button free and lowering my zipper.

She gains purchase the moment her hand reaches inside. The first squeeze makes my breath stutter, my mouth meeting hers greedily as we both drive each other crazy with need.

“Take me, Cal,” she breathes.

“So damn angry,” I mutter against her lips, groaning when she flexes her fingers around me.

“Now?”

“Then. You were so angry for me. You wanted to go for her.”

“She goaded you.”

“I watched you. Could barely think straight.”

“Show me how hot you were,” she murmurs then turns the tables on me, catching me off guard and flipping me around so my back is against the wall. Dipping her lips to the hollow of my throat, she lifts her fingers to the buttons of my shirt, opening it at a painfully slow pace.

I slam my head back when her tongue leaves a wet, hot trail over my abs. Her hands glide inside my waistband, dragging down my pants and boxer briefs together and exposing my straining length. Before I have a chance to regain control, she takes me to the hilt inside her warm, wet mouth. “Fuck,” I grate out, my hand dropping to rest on the back of her head.

She hums around me the next time she takes me to the back of her mouth, causing my knees to buckle. “Fuck, Luce. Give a man some warning,” I growl out as I pull her ponytail holder out of her hair and toss it down onto the floor before returning my fingers to the back of her head.

“I want you to fuck my mouth, Cal. Use me.”

“Fuuuuucccck,” I say when she cups my balls with her other hand, gently tugging and rolling them in her palm and scrambling any rational thoughts I was still capable of having in that moment.

Then I snap, my hips taking on a mind of their own and pushing between her lips before pulling back, repeating the motion with deeper strokes every pass.

“Your mouth, shit . . .”

“Hmmm.” Her muffled moan resonates through my entire body, starting at my cock and working its way upward. When her hand drops from my balls, a second later the wet sounds of her fingers gliding between her legs is almost my undoing.

Unable to think clear, I take a step back and meet her lidded, heat-filled eyes before my gaze lowers to the hand thrusting beneath her dress.

“Fuck, I need you on my cock right now.” I growl as I drop my knees to the hardwood floor, grabbing Lucia as I go. Swinging her body to the side then beneath me, I have the forethought to ease her to the floor away from the glass, cushioning her fall with my arm wrapped behind her back.

Then we lose control. She lifts her dress clean over her head as I palm her breasts through her bra before hooking my fingers beneath the lace and covering one of her nipples with my mouth. Her arms wrap around my shoulders, dragging their way down to my ass. Parting her legs, she pulls me against her, my cock gliding against her clit with every thrust of my hips.

“I want to feel you, Cal. I’m covered; we’re safe. I trust you.”

Bracing my hands on either side of her, I push up to look at her. “Luce . . .” Her name is a plea escaping my lips.

“I need you. Trust me, Cal.”

“Fuck,” I growl, as I reach a hand down to position my cock at her entrance then drive deep inside of her. Her scream as I fill her to the hilt spurs me on.

“Cal, fuck me. Show me.”

So I do. With my hands framing her head, forearms to the floor in the middle of my entryway, I give her everything. Every thrust, every kiss, every push and pull—it’s all us. It’s rough, it’s raw, and it’s everything we represent when we’re together. No one else exists in this moment. Every feeling she’s awakened inside of me since the moment we met is heightened by the freedom of just being able to be me.

“Fuck,” I plead as Lucia pulls my mouth to meet hers, our tongues waging a battle we know we both will win even if we lose. When my climax threatens to take hold, I drop my hand between our bodies to drive her there. But she needs no help, her fingernails digging into my shoulders as she cries out her release, her screams echoing throughout the house, surrounding us just as I shout out her name in reckless abandon.

Dropping my mouth to her neck, I slowly glide my cock in and out of her, relishing in the afterglow of one of the most baring sexual experiences of my life.

I laid myself open for her and she welcomed it. Needed it. Needed me.

“I love you, Callum Alexander. Every part of you. The real you. This version of you.”

With her words, she rips apart another piece of my mask, my constant companion, the self-protection mechanism that has kept my secrets safe for so long.

She’s done this to me, chipping away at it with every moment we’ve spent together. It’s her smile, her laughter, and her pushing and driving me to be who I truly am not what the world expects me to be.

I lean up on one elbow, taking in her flushed cheeks, swollen lips and mussed hair. Looking into her eyes, I see nothing but sated devotion reflected back at me. Cupping her cheek with my hand, I dip my head and rest my lips against hers.

“I love you, too,” I murmur, uttering the words I have never said to another lover. Then I kiss her gently, slowly savoring every minute.

A woman like Lucia deserves the man I was raised to be, the man I’ve worked hard to become, the man the world knows and wants to be. The only risk is taking that next step with her. The last step that I’m dreading.

I have a deep-seated fear about allowing her to see my darkest demon, a desire so taboo and dangerous that if she knew she’d likely brand me as the depraved deviant that I am.

I can only hope that Lucia believes in us and trusts me enough to see past my aberrant fantasy if it was ever to come to light.

Because losing Lucia now is not an option.

I’ll stamp out the craving, push back the desire, and bury that undiscovered part of myself. I’ve done it for the past fifteen years—what are fifty more? My fixation, borne out of fascination, curated by time and maturity, would be all but forgotten if it came down to a choice between it and her. There’s no contest. No consideration required.

It’s an unmatched sacrifice that wouldn’t score my soul if it meant having her.

What we have together, what we’ve just done and everything that is building between us is worth protecting, worth holding close. Not even the most carnal of cravings could ever come close to the craving that I have for Lucia.

Not once in my sixteen years as an independent adult have I purposely met the family of a woman I was involved with. That meant ties and emotions, distractions and complications, and until Lucia, I had neither the time nor inclination for any of that. But for Lucia, a woman who is one of the most important features in my life, I would give her the world.

Therefore, as Lucia and I make our way to her restaurant in the back of one of the town cars we booked for all of the staff attending tonight’s celebration, I consider what the night will bring.

“You’re very contemplative tonight. What is going through that amazingly complicated but dashingly handsome head of yours?” Luce asks me, her hand gently squeezing mine in her lap.

Turning to face her, I lift her hand to my lips and place a soft kiss on her knuckles. “I’ve never wanted to meet the family of a woman I’m involved with before.”

She grins up at me with eyes full of amusement before advising, “I’ve already given my brother a stern talking to. He’s not allowed to pull any of the big brother protective alpha bullshit in front of your staff.”

“That’s comforting,” I say dryly.

“How do you think I feel? Your family will be there, too. Am I the first woman to meet them?”

Looking down at our entwined hands again, I slowly stroke my thumb up and down her skin. “You know you are,” I say gently.

“Are you nervous about that too?” The question brings my gaze back up to hers.

“They know about you. They saw the photo of us at the ball game and when I talked to Mom yesterday, she was very excited to meet the woman who has, in her words, ‘unraveled me.’”

Hearing that, she starts giggling. “Good to know I’ve had a positive effect on you.”

“You’ve had an unimaginable and completely unexpected effect on me, Lucia Harding, and I, for one, have never been happier about taking a drink from a server before.”

“Well, such a fateful happenstance should be celebrated,” she says softly, lifting her chin and leaning in toward me. Not missing the implication, I brush my lips against hers once, twice, then I inch my tongue inside her welcoming mouth, pouring my appreciation, my adoration, and my love into moment.

“I agree,” I say, pulling away and smiling at her.

“An Alexander smile—a rare and highly sought-after occurrence. One could almost contemplate documenting this moment.”

“Hmm, you might be right about that,” I muse.

“I like it when you smile. Then I know you’re happy about something.”

“I have a lot to be happy about right now.” I kiss her again, a soft touching of my lips to hers, full of unspoken meaning.

“We’re here,” she says, as I pull away.

I look over her shoulder to see that we are in fact outside the restaurant. I give her a quick peck on the lips. “Wait here. I must play the gentleman in front of my mother.”

“You’re always a gentleman.”

“And you’re always beautiful.” One last kiss and my door is opened, the driver holding it wide as I step out onto the sidewalk. Turning with my arm outstretched, I grip Lucia’s hand the moment she places it in mine and help her out of the car.

A not overly surprising but nonetheless irritating camera flash snaps me out of my good mood, the few hours at home with Lucia having successfully wiped the aggravation of the press conference from my short-term memory.

“Lucia! This way. Callum!”

“Lucia, how does it feel to be on the arm of the city’s most eligible bachelor?”

“Any comment on Carmen Dallas’s accusations of a cover-up?”

Every question is like an ice pick to my soul, souring my jovial, relaxed mood. With a body wound tight, I quickly put my hand at the small of Lucia’s back and hurry her forward through the front door that Grant is now holding open. “Never been more grateful for the front window blinds,” Lucia mutters under her breath.

“Pack of animals. They’ve been here for an hour at least,” Grant states as he takes Lucia’s jacket and leans in to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Lucia, wonderful to see that you are indeed still able to walk straight.”

She snickers as I growl at him. He looks at me, and smirks, knowing exactly what he’s doing and that he’ll get away with it because he’s Grant, and that’s what he does.

“Is everyone here?” I ask, looking around the room.

“You guys are the last to arrive. Fashionably late?” he asks, with a raised brow.

“Something like that.” I don’t miss Lucia’s knowing grin.

“Are we doing speeches or do you think your slaying of the Dallas Dragon today will suffice?” Grant says.

I sigh loudly. “I wouldn’t bet on it. Any backlash so far?”

“Considering Annie called me three times because the phone system was overloading, you could say that. However I think it’ll be a good idea to issue a press statement on Monday to explain exactly what happened and why.”

“I agree.”

Lucia moves between us, a hand on each of our shoulders. “Boys, we’re not here to talk business all night. I have a protective brother to placate, and Callum’s parents to charm.”

“The Alexanders are harmless. They’ll just love to meet a woman Callum is involved with. The fact you’re beautiful, independent, and not looking for a meal ticket means you’ve got nothing to worry about,” Grant says when we reach the restaurant proper.

“You want to say a few words before the food is brought out?” I ask his back as I follow him into the restaurant, holding Lucia’s hand.